


in the hidden places

by radiodurans



Series: 500 Words of Harry Styles [8]
Category: Fashion Model RPF, Harry Styles (Musician)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Gender Dysphoria, Kissing in the Sunshine, Making Out, Melancholy, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Harry Styles, Other, the inherent eroticism of going outside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:35:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23862394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiodurans/pseuds/radiodurans
Summary: Harry and Camille kiss in the sunshine.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Camille Rowe
Series: 500 Words of Harry Styles [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064012
Comments: 14
Kudos: 22





	in the hidden places

**Author's Note:**

> In like 2010 Camille did this super male-gazey ad for Abercrombie and Fitch where she kisses another woman. I’d love to tell you I was more critical about it but I’m just horny and gay. 
> 
> Anyway, this is. . .that. Sort of.
> 
> Please do not send Mx. Harry Styles this fic. Any resemblance to persons living or dead are coincidental yadda yadda etc. I make no claims about Harry Styles' actual sexuality or gender within this story. Think of it as a roman a clef with the real names still tacked on.

Ants have consumed the flesh of their half-eaten strawberries by the time Harry and Camille’s conversation has flown neatly through whispers of devotion to soft laughter and kisses. Then – tops off and then – bottoms. Camille’s lacy lingerie scratches his bare chest as they kiss side by side which, somehow, feels more intimate than nudity. Slowly, Harry nudges her further on top of him until his legs are wedged between her own. Camille giggles; she loves being on top. When she looks down at him with a playful smile, he strokes the downy hair on her forearms. She touches her forehead to his, eyes closed, breathing, breathing.

Sun peeks through her golden hair, illuminating the complexity of its coloring. There – rich brown and there – honey. He tilts his head so his cheek rests against a small puddle of hair. Camille grabs him gently by the chin and gives him an openmouthed kiss. Harry laughs into Camille’s mouth and licks from her palate to just behind her front teeth before pulling his tongue away. She shivers in delight and gives the hair at the nape of his neck a small tug that makes him squeak involuntarily.

“You squeak like a girl when I pull your hair. Always,” she murmurs into Harry’s throat. He briefly allows the part of his brain that lights up at that comparison to glow happily. Then, he shuts it down with appropriate defensive banter.

“Nonsense. All of my squeaks are very manly,” says Harry. Camille pulls his hair again as she sucks a love bite into his collarbone. She grinds slowly against the tent in Harry’s boxers. Heart thumping, Harry gently tips her off of him, straddles her, and kisses from the ridge of her neck down to her thigh. Sometimes he can with – _that_ – but not today.

Harry buries his face in the coarse thicket of hair between her thighs. She smells tangy, like the aftertaste of too much fruit. He puts his middle finger inside of Camille and presses his tongue to her clit. Harry takes his time making her cum (and then, delightfully, cum _again_ ).

Always, she says, _now you_. Always, a sheepish grin, a soft cock, and a gentle kiss.

“I’m so lucky,” she says as she combs her fingers through Harry’s hair. “Such a thoughtful man.”

A familiar pang of sadness flickers inside Harry as she pulls his face to rest on her breast. He’s always a little sensitive after he cums, and he’s especially sensitive about _this_ , the desire to be seen as – the impossibility of –

Because he _can’t_ just say –

Above them, the moon makes her debut, shrouded by the salmon-colored sky. He stares at it, transfixed by its early entrance. Camille’s thumb strokes the shell of his ear.

“Are you okay?”

He closes his eyes and pictures the scene differently.

_Harry’s lipstick is smeared on Camille’s mouth, chin, and nose. Her fingers brush through Harry’s long, soft hair. Their legs are entwined, pelvises mirrored, near-identical._

_“Yeah. I’m fine,” she says._


End file.
